


five times chat noir and ladybug shared a meal (& one time they didn't)

by magesamell



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Identity Reveal, i wrote this just so adrien agreste could have some croissants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6710068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magesamell/pseuds/magesamell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My lady, remind me, how many dates is it before you kiss her?”</p><p>“You can kiss on the first date,” she says. “Wh -- this is not a date.”</p><p>They're just sitting and watching the city like they always do. Her head is on his shoulder but they always do that. Friends do that. This is not a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five times chat noir and ladybug shared a meal (& one time they didn't)

Her stomach growls.

The akuma attack had come just as her _maman_ was setting the table for dinner; Marinette yelled something about needing to return Alya’s laptop as she ran out the door.

Now, several hours later, after a long and messy fight with an enraged sewer worker, Ladybug realizes she hasn’t eaten for approximately ten hours.

She pushes the thought away for later and throws her latest lucky charm in the air, watching as the fluttery magic washes away the muck and goo from the street.

“Finally,” she mutters.

Chat quirks his mouth. “My Lady, do you mean to tell me you didn’t enjoy our siesta with M. SewRage?”

She glares at him. “No.”

Her stomach growls.

“I, for one, found it quite appetizing. Really makes you crave a nice _bechamel_ , non?”

“I see that you have the tastes of an alley cat.”

He grins, extending his baton so that he can balance it across his shoulders. “I’m not ashamed to admit battle gets me _feline_ peckish.”

She sniffs. “That was terrible.”

“Excuse me, Lady. I am running on empty.”

Her earring beeps. 4 spots left.

“I should go,” she says, but doesn’t move. Her stomach really does ache.

“Shame,” Chat sighs dramatically, drooping his head so that the baton rolls down, catching it neatly before it hits the ground. “I’m absolutely dying for a croissant.” He opens his mouth -- probably to say something ridiculous like _and a date with a lovely lovebug_ but she’s already deep in fantasy.

“You forgot the chocolate creme,” she says. “Oh, and some strawberries -- if they’re in season, of course.” She looks at him. “Are strawberries in season now?”

She frowns at the shocked delight on his face. “Shut up. I’m hungry. I had to skip dinner for this shit.”

Chat hums. “Quite litera--”

She shoves her finger to his lips.  “Shh! _No_. Don’t ruin my croissant for me.”

He grins against her finger. She might be smiling back.

Her earring beeps. 3 spots. Quiet, now.

“I should go,” she says again. “Yes, I’m going. Goodnight!”

She calls it over her shoulder as she flings her yo-yo, lifting herself off her feet.

 

-o-

 

It’s a mistake. It’s so dumb. Why is she doing this?

She waits for him at their usual spot and grips her bag so tightly the paper frays.

He’s going to make such a big deal out of it. He’s so annoying. God, why did she do this.

She’s starting to contemplate throwing the parcel off the roof -- but then rejects that idea. Every baker’s daughter knows wasting food is intolerable.

Chat Noir lands suddenly, smoothly next to her, but she refuses to flinch. “Hi, kitty,” she says.

“My Lady.” His gaze immediately zeros in on her bag. He smirks -- “Why, my lady, you know you don’t need gifts to win over my affections--”

“Oh my god, be quiet.” She shoves the bag into his hands. “It’s croissants. I thought we could share. Before patrol.”

She’s surprised him now. “Oh,” he says, and the absence of any following sentiment sticks in the air.

“I just thought -- since you said --”

“Are these _fresh_?”

“Uh, well, they were baked this morning, and uh, warmed up a little, just now. They’re no good cold, anyway.”

“Of course.” He smiles at her, and offers her one. She takes it, and bites into it, not looking at him. They both chew for a silent moment.

Paris glitters below, beyond. A quiet night, but warm. Autumn is just around the corner. The croissant melts in her mouth, like the city lights in the river water.

“This is nice,” Chat says, no teasing in his voice.

“It is,” she says. “Sorry there was no chocolate creme, it just doesn’t transport.”

“The downside to romantic rooftop _rendezvous_.”

She smirks. “Nothing is ever like it is in the movies.” She brushes a pastry flake off his leathered shoulder.

Chat hums. “So you say.” He bumps her shoulder. “Our love is _paws_ itvely made for the silver screen.”

She stands up. “If you’re done, we have a city to patrol.”

 

-o-

 

He is unbelievable.

“This isn’t even real Chinese food, you know.”

“I was on a time crunch, all right?”

“Like, I could’ve brought _real_ food from my house instead of this -- whatever.”

He sighs, for once not chipper behind the mask. “Sorry. Really -- I was just -- my job went on later than I thought it would, and then it took forever to --”

“It’s okay!” Ladybug says. “You don’t -- you don’t have to do any of this.”

He frowns. “It’s our thing.”

“Well, only because I was nice that one time. I mean, you don’t have to feel obligated to bring me food or anything.”

He laughs, too close to her ear. “Yeah, there’s no chance you’re gonna convince me to stop.”

She flushes. “You’re so nice to me,” she mumbles.

“Only because you deserve it,” he shoots back, and pops some chicken in his mouth. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

She wrinkles her nose. “You’re holding your chopsticks wrong.” She shows him the right way.

(He pesters her for being a snob; she retorts that she just hates liars of all kinds, including lying not-Chinese food; he asks her how her family makes it; she tells him)

 

-o-

 

“My lady, remind me, how many dates is it before you kiss her?”

“You can kiss on the first date,” she says. “Wh -- this is not a date.”

They're just sitting and watching the city like they always do. Her head is on his shoulder but they always do that. Friends do that. This is not a date.

“You say that, but it _is_ dinner and a show.”

“The show was an electricity monster. And that happened before we got food.”

“You de-transformed to order the sandwiches. You met me here. It was all premeditated.” He taps her knee in emphasis.

“So what? We’re partners. We’re friends.”

“I’m just saying you’re putting a lot of effort into not dating me.”

“Hmph.” She ignores him.

“Ladybug.”

Oh, not this.

“What do you want me to say, Chat?” she says thickly. “This is -- this is the way it has to be.” She doesn't look at him. He always did this. He always asked for more than she could give.

“Why is that?”

“Because -- because we’re in danger, all the time! We can’t risk having Hawkmoth know our real identities.” She's said it a thousand times. “We need each other -- neither of us can be compromised.” She folds and refolds her hands.

“I didn’t say anything about that.”

She pulls back from his embrace, whipping her head to look at him. He was serious.

“You can’t be in a relationship and keep things from each other,” she says.

“It’s not like we lie to each other.”

“It’s not like we tell the truth, either!” She feels herself flushing. “How do -- you can’t possibly really like me. You don’t even know me.”

He catches her gaze. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You don’t, though! If you knew me in real life you wouldn’t be saying any of this.”

She tries to turn away, but he catches her wrist, pulls her back to face him.

“I’m saying it _because_ I want to know you in real life! I want -- you’re so amazing, and I want to know everything.” His eyes are so wide. “Everything.”

He couldn't be serious. She takes her hand back, turns away, but only to let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“I’m just -- I’m just ordinary, Chat. It’s nothing worth knowing.”

“I want to know the ordinary things,” he shoots back eagerly. “I know -- I know how your _maman_ makes her spring rolls, and how you hate a girl in your class, and you’ve always wanted to go to fashion week. I just--” He trails off. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want -- I’m just crazy about you, you know.”

She knew.

“And this thing we have now -- it’s like, it felt like something more than just partners. I’m sorry.”

“It felt like that to me, too,” she says.

“Right. Friends.”

She could say so. It could be the end of the conversation.

“More than that, too.” she says. Then, hesitant: “You’re sweet when you’re not being a horrible flirt.”

He’s quiet beside her. She turns her head into his shoulder. “Chat?”

“I will if you will.”

Her eyes flutter closed.

“You’ll be disappointed.”

“Wanna bet?” The challenge rings clear. “I’ll prove it. I'll prove I really like you. The real you, behind the mask.”

“That doesn't make any sense.” She says it into his suit.

“I bet,” he says, “that once I see your face I will be so enamored I kiss you right on the spot.”

“That's assuming once I see yours I wouldn't retch in disgust.”

He chuckles. “I have it on good authority I'm not that nauseating.”

“Sure of yourself, are you?”

“I'm sure of who I want.” That's when he hugs her, pulling her into his lap, tucking his head over her shoulder.

She pretends not to be shaking.

“Okay,” Ladybug says, counting his heartbeats.“This is a date.”

He laughs. “How do you figure?”

“Don't argue.” She breaths into his shoulder. “You're really serious about this, aren’t you?”

His chest rumbles. “My lady, I have been singing your praises for years now.”

“Well, a lot of that time I thought you were just joking, so.” She huffs.

“If this is a date, you said I'm allowed to kiss you.”

She tries to laugh. “I believe I said it's an _option_ , not that you're automatically allowed.”

“You're perfectly right. Can I kiss you?”

She studies his face, but he is an open book of affection and she can't read anything beyond that. “I -- can I have some time to think about this, _chaton_?”

She watches his face deflate. “It's just not fair,” she presses on, “to either of us. Kissing strangers.”

He makes a disgusted noise in his throat. “We're not strangers. And I told you -- I don't care; I want whatever you’ll give me.”

Something sour wells up in her eyes, her throat.

“No, Chat. You deserve more than that.”

“What?”

“You deserve a real girlfriend. I'm just--”

He was shaking his head. “Ladybug--”

“It's not you--”

He stiffens. “What? Are you-- are you _breaking up with me_ before we even--”

“I'm trying to lower your standards!” She exclaims, gesturing nervously.

He laughs. “Good luck with that.” He pulls her in, and she goes willingly, and he holds her close again, breathing into her hair. “Take your time. I'll be here.”

 

-o-

 

She’s late.

Late, with day old bread.

She might be subconsciously trying to disappoint him.

So he’d lower his standards.

So she’d wouldn't be so terrified.

She yo-yos herself onto their rooftop. He turns, brightening when he sees her parcel.

“Bread?”

“Bread.”

He reaches for the paper, and, swallowing, she turns the loaf in her hands, hands it to him with the _patissiere_ seal upright.

Chat pays little attention, more interested in the warm treat inside.

 _Fuck_. Why did she ever think it would be that easy?

He tears away a piece of the loaf, handing it to her before pouncing on his own. She watches him chew.

“I love bread,” he tells her seriously.

“Put down the bread,” she tells him just as seriously.

“Huh?”

“So I can hug you.”

“What?”

“You’ve already met me!” She all but yells at him. She snatches his bread from him and puts the two pieces back on the bakery paper. “I'm going to hug you now.”

“Okay,” he says, and she wraps her arms around him. Settles her chin on his shoulder.

“So this is --”

“You're comforting me while I’m telling you who I am.”

He laughs. “Right,” he says, and his arms come up around her, snuggling her closer. “Makes sense.”

“Don't laugh at me.”

He presses his lips to the shell of her ear. “I'm not.”

She sighs. They sit.

Quiet, now.

“You’ve already met me,” she says again. “Civilian me. When -- Nathaniel got akumatized, when he was the Evillustrator, I made you protect the girl he was after.” Her fingers twitch, her grip on him tightens.

“Marinette,” Chat supplies. Then, “ _Marinette?”_

She refuses to look at him, only buries her nose into his shoulder. “I told you you would be disappointed.”

“I'm not! At all. Jesus, my lady. Let me just -- okay. Well, um, the good news is you’ve already met me too. Um, I sit in front of you in homeroom.”

She stiffens. Breaks away. “ _Adrien?_  Adrien Agreste? You -- no, that's not funny!”

He just laughs at her glare.

“It's not a joke! We -- we’ve been sitting next to each other this whole time.”

He's grinning. He's fucking _giddy_.

“There's no possible way _you_ are Adrien,” she informs him.

He pulls a face. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve liked Adrien Agreste for months. Years! You are _not_ Adrien Agreste.”

“I'll prove it. Plagg, de-transform.”

When the magic sputters out, she looks at him -- for the first time. Chat in Adrien’s skin. It just -- it doesn't look right.

She reaches out, and, only hesitating for a moment, ruffles his hair. She ignores his wide smile.

When she leans back, he catches her wrists. “Am I all you dreamed?”

She scoffs, mutters _idiot_ under breath, and breaks out of his grasp to pull his face to her own.

It's a chaste thing. Quick, quiet. A breathless moment, but then he's grinning against her lips.

“You like me.”

She sighs. “That's been established.”

“You like Chat. And Adrien. You like _me_.”

“You're not--”

“My lady, I'm delirious. Do you know what this means, Marinette? We can -- we can be together in public too! Oh my god, this is perfect.” He ducks down to kiss the corner of her cheek. “You're perfect.”

“I'm not. You know outside the mask I'm just Marinette?” She's not convinced he heard her right, before. Somehow.

“Of course! I'm glad it's you! You're -- _you_. I can't believe I didn't notice before. I thought you were so cool, but you never wanted to be my friend.”

“That's because I couldn't get a word out in front of you because I was massively crushing on you!” she hisses viciously.

He laughs, pulls her closer. “I can't believe any of this. This is amazing.”

Chat leans in again, but she puts a finger to his lips. “Prove it.” And she releases her transformation.

His lips are on hers even before the magic falls away.

 

-o-

 

The morning had been brutal.

Alya, of course, lost her shit that Marinette had replaced Nino in the seat next to Adrien, and that the two were all huddled together. Being all. Next to each other.

Marinette heard her whispering fiercely to Nino all lesson. But she didn’t care.

All she cares about right now is having a nice lunch -- their _first_ lunch -- with her boyfriend.

Adrien hums beside her, swinging her hand. He's so smug. She would yell at him if she weren't just as giddy.

“So where are we going?” She asks him. He had insisted on choosing, just as he insisted on holding the door open for her now.

“Well, I was thinking, we pick up sandwiches at the deli and croissants from your parents and then --”

A deafening screech bursts through the air and a pall spreads across the steps of the school. All at once, dozens of cats and dogs appear and fall from the sky, bouncing lightly as they reach the ground.

A cat meeps forlornly as it lands in front of them.

Marinette looks to Adrien, who is watching the sky in pure despair.

“That's just not fair,” he breaths.

She grins. “Ah, _chaton_. Did you really think you were the only kitty in my life?”

He glares at her. “It looks like we’ll have to take a rain check. Cat check. _Or_ \--”

“Don’t strain yourself, _minou_.”


End file.
